


from the edge of the deep green sea

by imaginedecember



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:00:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 12,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3198050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginedecember/pseuds/imaginedecember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were variants of the norm and that made them targets. It was the same story every time, no matter the place or the year. Nothing mattered except the differences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Story title** : From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea by The Cure
> 
>  **Setting** : a world where prophets and keepers exist. Prophets are those who see events in the future. Their abilities vary from person to person, some more rare than others. Keepers are guardians and more specifically, they help prophets with keeping their sanity in check. Keepers and prophets are a secret. Society doesn't exactly like those who go beyond the norm.

They were just kids living in a shit world.

But, most importantly, they were an ‘x’ on a map.

***

Ray felt it impossible to put words into feelings. He just was never good at that shit. Michael, sometimes, didn’t fare much better but he had a way of going about it. More oblivious but tons of bluntness wrapped with a red and pink bow (angry but soft and sweet). He was a paradox of a package. 

So, when it came to terms that Ray didn’t understand, he didn’t quite know how to tell Michael how goddamn frustrated he was.

All he had in his arsenal were his actions.

It didn’t take long for Michael to catch the pieces and shove them in their right places.

Thank god for Michael or else Ray would be stuck in quickly drying cement. 

And thank god for Ray or else he’d have no one to point out the obvious. 

“Alright, so I’m a prophet.”

Ray could only nod as they walked the path of truth. It was full of land mines, though, and no matter how worn it was, there was always that hint of fear. 

Ray didn’t take Michael’s bait, though. He kept trucking along, tapping away on his controller, eyes on the television screen. 

Michael growled out a warning before he slapped the controller from Ray’s hands. His eyes were fierce as he kneeled in front of the younger male, forcing him to look at him, to look at the path that he was treading and realize that it was a path made for the both of them.

“And you’re a keeper.” 

Michael was breathing slow and easy. Ray tried his hardest to follow his lead but he was heading straight towards a land mine and he wasn’t sure that anybody, let alone himself, could shove him out of the way in time.

Michael trudged on, though. “A prophet can mean many things but for me, I see shit, events I guess, months in advance. And you…you’re a keeper. It’s a guardian but we have no idea what for. So, that’s what we know, right?”

He didn’t expect Ray to answer him. He knew he had lost the younger male a while ago.

For a while, it felt like he had been living with a ghost. 

Ray stood from the couch, shoving Michael aside and walking to his room. The door slammed with a resounding thud. Michael punched the couch cushions, half tempted to run after the skittish fuck but there was nothing he could do.

Because Michael had been more angry lately. Headaches were no fucking joke now. It felt more like a fire. 

And Ray.

Ray had been more distant than usual. 

He refused to go anywhere near Michael. He didn’t want to go outside anymore, not even with bribes of free food or video games. And that shit usually worked. It was like pulling teeth with him and he wouldn’t say what the fuck was wrong.

Michael was honest from the start. He had been the one that dug around for the words behind their ailments. He took a stab in the dark with Ray’s and when he saw the younger male wince, he knew he had hit the mark. 

But Ray was a crafty ‘x’ on a map and Michael didn’t know where to find him anymore. 

Because, really, how can one catch a ghost?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael stumbles upon Geoff in some punk rock club on the outskirts of the city.
> 
> At first he's real but then comes the visions. 
> 
> All Michael can do is hold on and pray it all comes true.

Everything was loud. 

Vibrations.

Voices.

Clinks.

And clangs.

From the outside to the inside.

But silence cascaded down so easily over him when his eyes zeroed in.

Sleepy blue skies.

A Sunday morning. 

Bitter coffee as harsh as his demons. 

A tattered novel and a homey feeling that he never wanted to stop engulfing him. 

Warm and sleepy. 

His pyre. 

A magic that would send him to the stake. 

And poor Geoff was fireproof.

Geoff reminded him of the good parts of his childhood but exemplified and carried over into adulthood. It was like the bad never happened. 

Punk rock soundtracks from the supposedly good old days.

Speeding down highways. 

Taking in life, in nature, in the greener pastures.

Geoff was everything that Michael thought he had lost. When he saw those eyes, that ruffled beyond repair raven hair, tattoos faded and bursting with unknown stories with far too much meaning for words to explain, he got lost. Tunnel vision. A spiraling hollowed out tunnel straight to a crooked kind of Heaven, one that he never knew he needed. 

He saw a future splayed out before him. 

And he chased it. 

God, he ran straight for him, knocking into the man in his haste. 

He didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling to a stranger. Couldn’t say he was a prophet. How worse off would he be if he revealed something like that? He’d push him away, get him detained, label him crazy.

Was it worth every mistake for that one idea of a possible right path?

Yes, Geoff was right.

And, as always, Michael was wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan is a tricky kind of prophet with the rarest ability. 
> 
> He sees death all around him.
> 
> He can't protect anyone.
> 
> But Ray's there.
> 
> And Joel too.
> 
> And somehow, despite the bonds they share, he'll protect them from himself.

Ryan was always very familiar with death.

And like himself, death had many faces. 

Benevolent, maniacal, kind, warm, dark, cold.

A turbulent storm. 

He knew what it felt like to carry around souls like that. He kept so many pictures with him now that he had journals upon journals, shelves upon shelves, crooks upon hidden crannies that were bursting at the seams with their memories, their legacies. 

He knew what it felt like to wander Earth. War to war. Hospital to hospital. Homes, parks. No scrap of Earth was left untouched, no soul left unturned. 

Another page. Another story. 

And sometimes while looking at the photos, he touches the edge, too cautious to dare touch the center in fear of smudging the goodness of their hearts with the darkness of his own. And he smiles, something not quite stitched up right. 

And he wonders what would his photograph look like.

What journal would he be in?

And who, then, would be willing enough to stick around to remember?

***

The first time he meets Ray, he blurts out the first thing his brain thinks of. And, of course, it was something that would turn the boy away.

“Ray Narvaez Jr.?” He tested the name on his tongue first. The flavor was sweet, a vanilla cream swirled and whipped. “Do you know your name also spells ‘java yarn ez rr’?”

Ray’s wide eyed stare was comical. Ryan’s nearly perfectly matched his except with a few dancing eyebrows for show. Blue against brown. Both felt stuck and yet propelled into the sky. 

“‘Ez’ and ‘rr’ aren’t even words.”

It took a few seconds for Ray’s voice to register. 

The boy wasn’t running. 

He was staying put.

And, why, was that a smile on his face? Soft and small but a reaction that Ryan hadn’t seen for months all the same. 

And the older male shrugged, his smile seemingly as blinding as the sun beams pouring in from the window panes. Ray tried his hardest not to cover his eyes. 

“Come on now. Everyone knows ‘rr’ is the infamous ‘r and r connection’ duo.” Ray’s head tilted to the side. Ryan leaned in as if sharing a secret but really it was just a made up story shoved together on the spot. It felt like his brain was smoking from how hard he was trying to get the boy to stay longer. Did he like to laugh or did he like intelligent conversations? Was he fine with the silence? Ryan watched in rapt fascination as the boy moved his head just enough so that they were a scant inch closer but to both boys, it felt like miles. “Ryan and Ray. Secret crime fighting duo.”

The laugh that tumbled out of Ray’s mouth was a bursting bolt of electricity that shot straight at Ryan’s poor, shriveled up heart. 

Ray was something that couldn’t be captured in a photo. He couldn’t be put away in a journal. Ryan would never want to dare touch something as sacred as him.

“You got any more stories in that big brain of yours?” It was teasing, light and Ryan liked how it made him feel like he was floating on puffy, soft clouds.

“Yeah, so, you see that bookstore across the street?” Ray followed Ryan’s impossibly blue eyes to the quaint brick building on the other side of the street from the coffee shop. “There’s a man that lives there and he’s got way more stories than I do.”

Ray was unsure but he smiled all the same. “We’re gonna have to visit him sometime then.” His eyes got all squinty. It reminded Ryan of the man who lived in that bookstore. And, man, how perfect would they be? He could see it now. A spark of a vision across his eyes. It was white picket fence worthy. Ray up there with that man, hiding away from the world together. 

Ray didn’t need to tell Ryan anything.

Because Ryan already knew everything. 

He couldn’t turn off his extremely rare abilities whenever he could. And, fuck, if he knew how, hell, he wouldn’t be hanging around at a coffee shop on a bitter morning in September when the crowds were thin, wishing for once that the deaths that saw in his head were his own.

Ray slipped into silence. 

It took only a second before he was reaching forward. Ryan let him cover his hand. The younger male’s hands were frigid but the feeling that poured from the skin was like electricity.

And, oh no, how easy he relaxed into the chair. 

Ryan felt like putty. 

His eyes struggled to remain open and his mouth couldn’t quite form the words of astonishment. But after a struggle, he managed to whisper, “A keeper, huh?” And he chuckled, something high pitched and too much like a childish giggle. “ _My_ keeper.”

He was in near hysterics because, oh, how unfortunate poor Ray was as well as the man there at the bookstore.

“I felt drawn to these two places for a reason,” Ray explained. His expression turned sour. “I didn’t want to believe my abilities.”

Ryan was still laughing in broken waves. With his free hand, he dragged it down his face and bit at his knuckle. “You have the abilities of a fucking god.”

The compliment spun a blush on Ray’s cheeks. He bowed his head, trying hard not to smile or giggle himself. But something was nagging at him and it made it nearly impossible for him to be happy. “You said that I was yours?”

Ryan nodded enthusiastically. “Like hell you are, kid. Keepers are the ones that guard and protect prophets. Y’know we’d go crazy without you fucks calming the storm in our heads.”

Ryan chanced a glance at Ray. His lips couldn’t work long enough to slip into a frown but he managed to light the blue of his eyes with a spark of concern. Ray saw it twinkle, saw it burn. “You’ve got two extremely special cases on your hands, Ray.” It was a warning and Ray didn’t like how somber it sounded.

“Should I be scared?”

Blue turned to black.

A bruise on the heart.

A wound of the mind.

“Never.”

And it was as honest as Ryan was ever gonna be.

Because the future he saw spun out before him popped and sizzled with something fierce and passionate. 

A bond unbreakable. 

And of course Ray would always have an inkling that things would go wrong. He was human after all. 

“When can we meet, uh, the other?”

It came out all wrong.

Ray retracted his hand and stuffed them in his hoodie pockets. 

“Listen, kid, bonds are no joke. They’re not exactly choices either. They’ll always be there. It’s up to you what you do with them.”

And, for what felt like the millionth time, Ray stepped on a land mine.

After that, Ryan never saw him again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joel's dealing with something like panic.
> 
> It's quite triggering sometimes. 
> 
> But it was a good thing that he had people in his court or at least he hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Joel has a panic attack in the first half of the story.

Up here, in the rafters, there was no battle between right and left brain, no battle between what was wrong and what was good and there were no answers to life to be found. Only the natural elements that dared to shine through the window panes or come through the tiny opening in the glass. Up here, in the rafters, it was just a hollowed out soul. 

It was just Joel and no one else. It was better that way. No one to drag down except for himself and he didn’t really care much about himself anymore. 

He just didn't know what to do with these feelings and these visions. He felt so unlike himself that it felt much too close to a possession. 

He was battling with this monstrous side of him, the one that he never wanted to face, the reason he smashed the mirror in the bathroom. 

Slamming his fists on to the table, he held back the scream that wanted to rip out of his lungs. It was still morning and despite how his head was swimming, he still didn't want to wake the neighborhood with his fight with the demons that troubled him, plagued him, chained him, kept him locked. 

Was there a better universe beyond the bars? Was there a key he could reach? 

Pulling his knees to his chest, he tried to breathe in and out in a shaky at best pattern but numbers didn’t make sense anymore. His right brain was sluggish and his left brain was alight with memories and funny words and nothing made sense. It all meshed together into one and he didn't know where he began and where the demons took over. Consuming his soul. He could feel the slow drag. He could feel the claws latch on. But he wouldn't dare to give in. 

With shaky hands, he grabbed the shredded blanket and tried to count out loud where he had to cut a patch out. But there weren't inches in this world or centimeters or anything that rational. Even this couldn't ground him but he trudged through the fog.

Reaching over to his stereo, he turned up the volume as loud as he could and turned back to the blanket. His fingernails toyed with a frayed stitch before tearing at it. The stretch and give of the fabric erupted in his ears as it ripped. Focusing on that sound, he tore and tore until a long stripe was pulled from the blanket. Breathing in deep, he clutched the fabric in his fists and let the notes and the instruments and the voice and the words lull him to a peaceful sway. It was all he could do in this state that he was in. 

Such a terrible, wretched state. 

He allowed himself now to scream, to let whatever it was pour out. With the music as his background and reels of memories of people long gone without a trace, he let himself fight the demons.

He was stronger than anything they put him through. This past of his, well it wasn’t the right time to dwell on such matters.

He had to overcome. 

Endure and survive. 

 Not let it win this fucking fight. 

***

Ray had come over at a bad time.

He hadn’t met with Ryan at the coffee shop in weeks. He didn’t even want to look at the calendar to mark off the days, afraid that the shame and guilt would eat him up, swallow him whole. 

Michael was enough for him to handle at the present moment. 

But he had been so curious. It was practically insatiable. He had to know who that man was in that bookstore. 

He didn’t expect to see Geoff there. 

And he also didn’t expect to see the owner holding shredded pieces of a blanket and looking like he had just succumbed to a wind tunnel of emotions. 

Ray’s heart practically throbbed as he locked eyes with the owner. His heart yearned to fix it any way he could, to inject warmth, a light, into the darkness. But humans weren’t fixable. It wasn’t a one time thing. It was a slow process. And all Ray could do was hold on with him.

“Hey, kid.” Geoff’s smile was light and easy. Ray could see why Michael had latched on to him immediately. He wondered how Michael was doing with a man like that swimming around in his visions. 

“Hey.” Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Ray kept his eyes on the floor. 

“What brings you around?” 

And it was weird how things clicked right then.

Ray promptly turned on his heel and left.

But a hand caught his elbow before he could even think of running down the street. 

Ryan was laughing in his ear, a bitter sound.

“Running from a prophet, Ray? Not the best idea you ever had.”

And it was true. Ray was foolish but humans did crazy things when they were scared.

“Come on. Let me introduce you to Joel.”

Ryan gingerly spun him back around to the bookstore. Ray was hard pressed to protest but he figured there was nothing that he could do. There were bonds that he had to figure out. He couldn’t run from them. He couldn’t run from who he was.

Ray grabbed Ryan’s hand, smiling when the older male leaned closer to him, the aura he gave off full of tranquility. 

“So, what else does Joel’s name spell?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joel met Ryan a few weeks before. 
> 
> And, boy, did he have impeccably good timing.

It was a good thing Joel had several friends to keep him grounded.

Geoff was a regular visitor at his bookstore. Joel always found it amusing to pick his brain and to find out all of the ideas he had for stories to write himself. They were always freshly brewed no matter how many years Geoff had been sitting on them. 

Lately, Geoff had been coming over more and his stories had turned to a kid with ginger curls and dimples. Joel didn’t wanna say it but he had pictured who Geoff was talking about countless of times. It was only a matter of time before Geoff saw him too, though, this time in reality.

And it was also a good thing that Joel had stumbled upon Ryan. 

The younger male had been shoving at people in the crowds. His eyes were wild and Joel could practically feel the harsh beating of his heart vibrating the ground like an earthquake.

It was a gift and a miracle that prophets could always detect the normals from the gifted.

He had grabbed Ryan’s shoulders, stopping him mid-frenzy. Ryan couldn’t meet his eyes. Logic and rational had failed him. But the sizzle from that single touch was enough to ground him, to get his mind back in order.

“You saw it too?”

And Joel felt all too terrible. 

And he never ever felt terrible for other people’s misfortunes. 

But with a gift comes a curse.

And Joel knew too much about that. He was empathetic simply because he dealt with the consequences of such a gift like a poorly constructed routine. 

“Look, man, I’m just a prophet who sees events surrounding me and friends. I don’t…have what you have.”

The whimper that escaped the younger male’s mouth was a stab to Joel’s heart. Sighing, he wrapped his arms tighter around the other’s shaking shoulders, steering him around and back towards his store, his home.

The warmth was enough to soothe the shivers but Joel couldn’t take care of the trembling. 

“I’d offer coffee but…”

He trailed off awkwardly at that, eyes stuck on the man as he found a chair near the counter to throw himself into.

Ryan was stoic.

“Uh…it’s Joel, by the way.”

But all Ryan said was, “I’m sorry for your sister.”

And Joel knew, then, that Ryan wasn’t only cursed but he was as good as dead. 

For fucks sakes, the man practically was the angel of death.

Joel picked his head up, let his eyes wander over everything that Ryan gave off. He was disintegrating right before his eyes.

All he could do was offer a distraction. It seemed to work well enough but he almost didn’t want to stick around for the ending. 

But the man was pulling him in. 

And before he knew it, his name was written down in half slant, half cursive, in the back, away from the others.

And Ryan was gone.

Just like that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Micheal comes home from the club, Ray knows somethings up.
> 
> One simply cannot hide their emotions from a keeper born and bred to sense them.
> 
> And one cannot hide from a prophet whose seen the exact thing you're trying not to admit.

“Can your thirst be any more real?”

Ray asked it with a quirked eyebrow and an open, inviting air about him. He was leaning over the living room chair, fingers tapping away invisible combinations on the tattered upholstery.

Michael had only just came home from the club and he was certainly not ready for an interrogation.

“Leave it for the morning, Ray.” He tried to grab for an Xbox controller but it didn’t do anything to distract the younger male from his inquiries. 

“So, who’d you meet? Did you bang ‘em yet?”

Michael’s growl was a warning but Ray almost never listened to him.

“Come on, Michael, give me the details here! I’m dying.”

Snapping the arm of the controller, Michael threw the remaining pieces on to the ground. “I’m going to bed.”

Ray didn’t really care that he had hit a nerve because if there was one thing about Michael that continued to piss him off was that he brooded alone in silence far too often when he could simply be talking about it.

Ray followed him into their shared bedroom, plopping on to the bed and waiting for Michael to join him. The older male sighed and grumbled all the way as he ducked under the covers and prayed for Ray to somehow go away.

“So, was it a vision? Or just someone there?” Ray tried to coax it out but he wasn’t hitting the right nerves. Frowning, he gripped at the edge of the blankets, tugging at them relentlessly until the older male threw them back in his face.

“How about fucking both!”

It was a tipping point and neither of them knew where to go from that outburst. Michael was panting hard, his eyes wild. And Ray was stuck, wide eyed and slightly afraid at the disintegration happening in front of him. He wasn’t a prophet. He couldn’t relate worth shit. But he was a keeper.

It took a struggle but Ray managed to find Michael’s hands curled into fists at his sides. Squeezing the skin, Ray leaned in a bit closer and smiled quite cockily when his friend relaxed against him.

“Michael, you’re a badass prophet whose gonna get him a keeper someday. If you saw this guy, maybe he’s your one, y’know? But you’ll never know until you try.”

It was fucking stupid how Ray got all sentimental when he turned all keeper on him. Fucker was a bag of mush and, sadly, Michael was falling for it, as always. But there was still a spark in him that refused to be the only one left in turmoil. 

“So, is that what you tell yourself when you meet that guy at that coffee shop?”

He did expect Ray to freeze.

But he didn’t expect him to just get up and leave.

“Fuck, Ray, that’s-.”

But the bedroom door rattled against its frame as it slammed shut. 

Michael flopped back against the bed, covering his eyes with his hands. Somehow all of this got wrong and, even worse, there was a headache coming on, fierce and strong. 

Whimpering, he curled into a ball, gripped the remaining blankets and pillows and waited for the fire to consume him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of honesty goes a long way no matter how much the truth stings.

They didn’t do mushy shit at all.

But Michael just came right out and said it anyway.

“So, I see strings.”

Michael was lucky that Ray was too pissed to laugh. Sighing, he trudged on, “Like those fucking red strings of fate or whatever. I see them from time to time and I see them connect to people. Could be to friends or family or lovers. I never tested it.”

The sound of the controller was the only thing that followed his words. Ray was playing Hotline Miami and fucking up on the first level. He slammed his controller on to the ground.

“Is that what you fucking saw with Ryan?”

Michael crossed his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes.

“Look, I can’t fucking control this shit so don’t get all defensive on me. And, yes, I saw Ryan. But I saw another guy. The only reason I even knew his name is because I saw you and him there, talking. The string was clear as day but it…went somewhere else too. It ended before I could catch it.” 

“Is that what you saw with that guy?”

Michael remained silent and Ray could only smirk knowingly at him. Shrugging, he leaned against the couch and laughed when Michael swatted at his head. Rubbing the sore spot, Ray punched him weakly on the arm before getting up to fetch a drink. 

“Oh, and by the way, it’s Ryan and Joel.”

Michael sat up so fast his head spun.

“You met them already?!”

He could practically hear Ray roll his eyes as he said, “Yeah, and you met yours.”

That was a reminder that Michael didn’t need at the moment. 

“Stop your self-pity and start a match with me.” But the good thing about Ray was that he knew how to distract Michael. 

Too bad that the seed had already been planted.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael knew that this was stupid, that it could possibly not mean what he wants it to.
> 
> But he won't go down without a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Sexual imagery

Michael felt like an obsessive little bitch who couldn’t get over the fact that somewhere out there could be his prince charming. It was making him sick. But there was no forgetting the fact that he had been wandering the streets for what felt like hours, searching for said prince charming. 

He was following the thread that had been haunting him forever. It had the oddest color and it burned worse than the others. 

But then it stopped, right outside that club.

A car pulled up beside him. The man in the driver’s seat rolled the window down and popped his head out.

“Michael, right?” But Michael didn’t need to nod. The man unlocked the passenger door. 

Punk rock soundtracks lulled him in and Michael slipped inside.

***

“So.”

It was an awkward pause.

Geoff had offered him a cup of some top coffee that tasted like heaven, choosing himself to also remain sober for the weirdest occasion of his life, but the kid had declined. With his cup of pure heaven in his hands, he sat down next to Michael on the couch, noticing that the poor kid had gone all rigid on him. 

“Listen, buddy, I’m no prophet but I sense it too. I tried to stop you but you have a strong pair of legs on you.”

It came out a bit more sexual than he intended and he certainly didn’t want Michael to have an insight into what he had exactly been fantasizing about since he met him. It certainly didn’t have anything to do with his mouth. Nope. 

“Really?”

It was deadpan and Geoff winced at the skid of it. 

“Must be hard to gather…I guess.” 

Geoff was picking at straws here. And he was stuck in a damn hay barrel. The whole entire fucking thing was straw but he was hunting for a particular kind. One that was short like the kid’s temper but huge in it’s hidden capability of love. He knew the boy was warm on the inside but damn the walls to get to it felt like he was going to war without any weapons or back up.

The only thing he had gathered from Michael was that and the fact that the aura he was giving off was like a whirlwind. Geoff had sensed him days before he met him.

“Right, well, do you have a preference in t.v.?”

When Michael didn’t answer, he turned on the television and flipped to a re-run of Always Sunny. He felt Michael’s aura tip over and crash. He scrambled to sit up and it was weird seeing the boy move more than a centimeter. 

“This is one of my favorites.”

And, okay, even if it did take a few tricks to guess what Michael would like, Geoff was doing alright. It was a shaky beginning but he could feel the foundation molding into something solid. He just hoped that, somewhere along the way, Michael would open up to him, let him in to those secret tunnels under those walls. 

But for now, he’ll drink his specially made coffee and take in everything that there was to gather about Michael Jones before he slipped away completely.


	9. Chapter 9

They didn’t speak of it.

Didn’t label it.

But one day Michael came home just a bit past midnight, hair ruffled (because Geoff really fucking loved his curls), bruises on his hips (because Geoff loved making marks) and red, slick lips. 

And Ray came home just a bit after him with ruffled clothing, even messier hair and a smile on his face that was threatening to break apart his cheeks. 

They fell into bed. 

And Michael grabbed him by the arm, felt around for his hand and interlaced their fingers together. The emotions that surged from skin on skin almost left them breathless. It was crazy how they felt the love there already. Just a seed but, oh, how it would bloom beautifully later on.

“We’re fucking mad, bro.”

And they laughed. Tiny little puffs of breath. All soft and melted down. 

And nothing else needed to be said.


	10. Chapter 10

“They’re like old men.”

Michael giggled against Ray’s shoulder. He had been fighting for the controller but Ray was playing Tetris and there was no way he was gonna get the controller back. He still tried, though, just to be an asshole and fuck up his game.

The comment had thrown Michael off a bit from his game and now he was staring at Geoff and Ryan in their apartment kitchen, bickering over what went where and how to make a already perfect recipe even more so. No one really fought with Geoff when he was in cooking mode but Ryan liked the challenge all too much. 

Joel was sighing from his place in the armchair. He was lax, letting his arms rest against the back of the tattered upholstery. Drumming his fingers. Eyes on the game of Tetris, something fond in the way he took everything in. 

In the short time that Ray had been with Joel, he found pretty quickly that Joel didn’t relax. He was all high strung and all over the place. He didn’t like certain places and he especially hated crowds. Ray was in the same boat and it took Ryan a bit to get them out of the house. But with them, Ray saw the slow signs of Joel relaxing. He let himself engage in the teasing comedy that was his boys and he even warmed up easily to Michael and the beyond impeccable combination that was him and Geoff. It was in these moments that Ray found himself as not a failure but a keeper of something special, something that was unbreakable.

Ray switched his gaze from his boys and back to Michael. Michael was watching Geoff like he had been with Joel and Ryan. Pinching the older male’s cheeks, Ray stuck out his tongue when he spluttered and pushed him away.

“Fucking pansy,” Ray commented but it was light and didn’t grate against Michael’s nerves. 

“Pussy,” Michael shot back.

But they were smiling even as Ray started up his game again and Ryan started throwing flour in the kitchen and Geoff was screaming and Michael latched on to his arm to try and shake the controller out and Joel turned into a puddle in the chair.

It was a mess of craziness but that was just perfect for all of them.


	11. Chapter 11

"I think there's the sea….fuck, is there?" Geoff was laughing at Michael's misery. 

"Is that a metaphor?" He tried to coax the boy along but his words came off teasing. 

"Fucking hell!" Michael exclaimed. Throwing the book down, he crossed his arms over his chest.

Pouting, he whined, "Geoff. Geoffrey. Geoffy." 

"Here, read this part over again." 

"But there's not one thing about the sea here!" 

"Look beyond the words." 

Geoff was acting like the typical teacher, never giving answers, always shedding off hints like they were leaves and somehow Michael never had a rake to pick them all up. 

Michael read the short passage that Geoff had circled with his favorite orange pen. As he slowed his breathing down and quelled his anger, he realized the words rolled over him like the sea. They drowned him in their importance. It was simple dialogue but it gave away so much of their character. 

"It's making me dizzy." 

Michael set the book down, instead using his fingers to rub at his temples. He had been reading too much as of late, some of it not as fun. Michael rolled his head against the couch, staring at the ceiling swirling above him. A thought chased his eyes. 

If he was being honest, he would have never pinned Geoff as a keeper. But now that he had begun a friendship with him, he realized how mother hen he was. It was in his actions, his words. It was in the way Geoff stood up from the couch and returned with a glass of water and Advil. He was born and bred for the role. And Michael. What was his gift? What was his role? 

Warms hands suddenly hooked themselves in his curls. Michael remained stock still as Geoff tried whatever he could to make the frown etched into his skin slip into a smile. And, really, Michael could never deny the pull and push of Geoff. Just like the sea. 

“You gonna stay?" Geoff didn’t wait for an answer, though, as he grabbed the blanket thrown on the back of the couch. 

Michael's smile came easy then as he teased, “Gonna tuck me in and everything, Geoff?" Shaking his head, Geoff let his hand linger in Michael's hair before standing up. 

"You're a special case, Michael." 

Somehow the words burst and danced inside Michael, melting him. His smile was the brightest thing Geoff had seen in awhile and it almost hurt to turn away.

Switching off the table lamp, he gave Michael one final glance, all soft in the eyes and even sweeter in his smile. Michael closed his eyes, then, after taking in everything and listening to Geoff's footsteps echo down the hall. 

"Don't let the bed bugs bite, Michael." 

And Michael laughed quietly underneath his breath as the tide came in and staked its claim.


	12. Chapter 12

They were arguing over answers to crossword puzzles and brain teasers in a diner at one in the morning.

Ray watched them with something like fondness in his eyes as he sipped a cream soda and stole fries from Joel’s plate.

There was something beautiful in their intelligence. People were intelligent in different ways but he’d like to think that Joel and Ryan’s were his favorites.


	13. Chapter 13

It was their quiet time.

For once, Michael was silent. But he liked these moments. He got to curl up in Geoff’s laugh and soak up the warmth that he gave off in perfect waves. And Geoff would kiss him in between chapters of a tattered book that he had re-read far too many times. And Michael would kiss back, softer than he normally would. It would melt them. The connection between them. 

Michael had seen the string in his vision. It had swung in front of his eyes like he was going to the gallows. 

But that was okay.

Because Geoff was there beside him. 

And they’d go down together.


	14. Chapter 14

Days came and went. Some bad, others good. It seemed like the bad would never end but they had to have hope for the good. Ryan always reminded Ray to pick his head up and not slip into the fake security that the silence would bring. 

Ryan couldn’t sleep. He was watching Ray get an achievement with a fond smile on his face. His boy was so smart but the boy never gave himself much credit. He was a sarcastic asshole most of the time. Sometimes he was self-degrading, other times he was high and mighty. Ryan always laughed. Ray’s humor was always the best thing to him and all three of them meshed so well that it was almost ridiculous. Joel would make an offhand comment, Ray would laugh and add something in, Ryan would get the last word in and they’d laugh together. A melody. God, a lullaby. 

But sometimes Ryan pulled back the curtains and found a boy crying for help. On those nights, he paid extra attention to the games that Ray played. 

He was grinding now. 

Joel was chattering away in his ear in a sleepy mesh of words. Ryan was on the couch behind them, eyes burning with much needed sleep but too stuck wide open to slip away. 

“Boys, boys,” Ryan cooed. 

Joel and Ray quieted, turning their heads. Joel was having an off day too. Everything was going wrong at the bookstore. He wasn’t getting much business. And all of that technology he had to use was failing him. Ray wasn’t much better. The grinding was getting to his brain and he was quickly getting frustrated. 

“Come over here.”

It was a sweet coax and like idiots in love, Joel and Ray listened. Ray threw his controller down, uncaring that it stopped the character on screen from running in a circle and freezing his progress on the achievement. He climbed on top of Ryan, finding a nice little nook in between the older male’s back and the back of the couch. Snuggling into the man’s neck, Ray inhaled soap and lavender with just a hint of vanilla. 

“Using my soap again?” he questioned teasingly. The pink that bloomed across Ryan’s cheeks was enough of an answer for him. Ray’s giggle fanned across the heated skin, a kiss following the sound.

Joel curled up in front of Ryan, blocking out the harsh light from the television screen and cocooning them in warmth and darkness. 

“I’ve caught him three times now,” Joel added.

“Hey, says the guy who takes me clothes and makes a nest of them!”

“It helps my head.”

“Oh, shut it.”

Joel’s smile was wicked as he ruffled golden hair and pressed a kiss to Ryan’s other cheek. Ryan couldn’t help but puff up with a lovely sense of pride. He got three perfect lovers and he could remain with them, like this, for as long as he could hold on to it.

“I’m going to bed.”

Ray’s giggle was sharp in his ear but he’d never admit to how much he liked how it pierced him. 

One final kiss and Ryan was slipping away.

The last thing he saw was two lines etched into the skin of his boys’ in the shape of a crooked ‘x’.


	15. Chapter 15

It was a bad day for Geoff and Michael too.

***

Geoff had been reading dystopian and science fiction novels all morning. Epidemics. He felt like one. No one was immune. Destruction. Its bleakness was his soul’s home. And Michael. When that name finally whirred inside his brain, causing such chaos that he wondered if he had anything left of him, he rose from the armchair and ambled towards the row of shelves lining the living room wall. 

Poetry. 

He was in the mood to find himself in their rhymes. He wanted to get lost in their meanings, ones that sometimes remained constant the fifth time he read them through or changed completely. He wondered what he would discover about his situation in the lines that he had memorized and thought he knew. Beating the book for a meaning. Beating his soul for an answer, for an understanding. 

He wouldn’t cook today.

It wouldn’t placate his nerves. 

And he didn’t trust himself with a knife. The shaking in his hands was becoming violent. 

And after a few desperate moments, he’d set the poetry down.

He wouldn’t read poetry today.

He wouldn’t read anything but epidemic novels, tales of widespread disease. No survivors. He wondered if anyone wrote the book from the tale of the virus. Hopping from host to host. Was the virus unknowing or was it corrupt? Did it intend to kill thousands, millions? 

Did it intend to throw away the one of the best things it had?

But no matter how much whiskey he fucking drank and no matter how many times he wished he could inject bourbon or moonshine or the strong shit he kept hidden in the back of the cabinet (in hopes that in his already wrecked state that he would be too drunk to get to it), he still felt like a fool. He wanted to scream, run his voice raw. 

No matter how much he read or imagined anything but this burning reality, he just saw Michael. 

Michael. Michael. Michael.

God, a song. How sweet and sorrowful. It faded to the end. And Geoff was the reason why. He had seen the kid falter, seen the kid rush back to hide himself (to protect himself from the onslaught that Geoff had caused - oh, please, let him be immune or make his death swift and quick). He had destroyed someone. He never felt like such a monster. 

Kneeling on the hardwood floor in front of the bookshelves, he palmed the wood underneath him and all he saw was milky skin. Muscles contracting under the weight of his palm. Clenching his fists, he shoved the image aside and tried to rise from the floor. But the whiskey was coming in strong. And he had drank too much. Fuck, he’ll regret this in the morning. 

The revelation came on like a sorrowful song.

God, he didn’t just like Michael a lot.

The fucker was the epitome of love. He was everything. And he had destroyed it. Marred. Scarred. He put a bullet in Michael’s heart but it never came out the other side. Twisting in deep. No recovery. No immunity. 

All because he couldn’t face what he himself struggled with, couldn’t put it into words and send it out there, hoping by some strange miracle that Michael wouldn’t leave. 

If only the walls of his home could speak. 

They’d cheer for the tragedy. 

They’d wait with bated breath for the death. 

End scene. 

They wouldn’t have to wait very long.

Succumbing to his thoughts and the burning of the alcohol coursing through his system, Geoff leaned against the shelves and fell asleep with the grounding scent of their pages and the weeping of their stories loud and clear in his ear. 

***

Geoff awoke the next morning in burning pain. It was one that called to him, that led him somewhere. 

Geoff knew something was wrong with Michael but the younger male didn’t call. No text, no warning.

How odd it was that Geoff was hiding things and so was Michael. A dance had to have two to tango.

It took a bottle of whiskey before Geoff got up and went over to the apartment that Michael shared with Ray. 

He staggered through the rooms, kicking away at whatever was left carelessly on the floors. He pounded on Michael’s door as a poor excuse of a warning before kicking the door down.

He’d never forget Michael’s scream. 

Guilt was ugly. Shame blossomed beneath it and made sharp, stunning thorns of his self-deprecation. 

As Michael whimpered, he tried to figure out what he had done, what was wrong. The room was pitch black but his mind was swimming and creating shadows on the walls. He had drank too much, had let the hole he had been burying for years swallow him up. 

It was like their insecurities were laid out there for the taking but they were so lost in themselves and just, god, please end it, that they didn’t care to pick it up. 

Geoff left. 

Michael cried.

The next day Ray came home to an apartment that looked like a tornado had ripped through it. The vodka was taken out of the top cabinet and the whiskey was missing too. 

Ray went to Michael’s bedroom. 

The black out sheets that he had pinned to the windows for Michael the morning prior were torn down. Michael was staring out the window, bathed in the suns rays and the pain that it brought to his burning head. 

Ray caught him before he collapsed. He tucked Michael into bed, threw out the alcohol and tapped the sheets back up. He got cool towels and placed them on Michael’s forehead. Slipping in beside his friend, he grabbed hold of his hands and refused to let go no matter how much it felt like he was soul was burning.

In the midst of the breakdown, in a motel somewhere, Geoff got a ticket and left the area. 

Joel caught the vision before it happened. He met him at the gate while Ryan went to check on Michael.

“You’re a coward.”

It was a harsh insult that wasn’t quite like a revelation. Geoff had called himself worse. He had treated Michael even poorer.

“But you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Joel kept going on and on even though Geoff was hardly listening anymore. 

“Communication, Geoff. Fucking speak!”

But Geoff didn’t.

He only screamed.

Joel had to grab him and convince the cops that he was just having a breakdown, not going fucking crazy on him. He managed to get a ride from an officer and told him to stop at Michael’s apartment. Geoff thrashed in his arms but the pain was like sludge in his veins. He was getting slower by the moment. The energy that he did have was sapped right out of him. 

Joel dragged him out the car and took him upstairs. When Geoff entered the apartment, he collapsed by the front door. 

He still heard Michael’s screams. He tried clawing his way through the door but Ryan wrapped a hand around his waist and tugged him away.

Communication. Communication. But Geoff didn’t know how to speak. He could only feel and sense. And he still was pretty shitty at that. He tried calling out his name but it was like poison on his tongue and, he, the creator. 

“I’ll let him sleep it off. When he wakes, they’re talking.”

Geoff’s brain tried to catch up with his swimming vision but the words were like mush in his ears. The last thing he said was a mere syllable, a vowel as he slipped away to his own self-made hell.


	16. Chapter 16

If there was the thing that Ryan truly, surely believed was that prophets would always turn out to be lions in the life in between this and the next.

He was sitting on the couch, grabbing at his hair. Ray’s hands were warm as he tugged at his fingers until they gave. 

Joel was sitting across from him, curled up beside him. They tried to get comfort from each other but they were both sick with worry and concern. 

“This world is shit.” Ryan was the only one who seemed to know how to put words together. But the string he put them on was too shaky. Ray tried his hardest to keep the string taut. Joel was there below, ready to catch him if he tripped. “There’s things out there we can’t fix, you know?”

Because a prophet could have all the visions he ever wanted but he’d never get there in time to change the tide. Because fate was fate. And this was life. And there was death. Fuck, death was everywhere. 

And because a keeper could hold on to a prophet and try to calm the waves but they couldn’t always be the anchor that they begged to be. 

Sometimes, things were unfixable.

Ryan couldn’t save all those people. He was the angel of death. He only took souls, didn’t save them. 

But he was saving Joel. He was saving Ray. He was saving those closest to him. Maybe that was a victory in of itself. 

Joel couldn’t stop his father from booking it. He couldn’t stop his mother from needing constant attention because prophets grounded just as much as keepers did. He couldn’t stop his sister from going out that night. She was a run away. It seemed to be a part of being a Heyman. Cursed from the beginning. 

Ray couldn’t stop himself from always feeling like a failure. He rarely went outside because he couldn’t handle the swell of emotions. Every human was a fucking windstorm. It was never-ending. Like his mother, she felt too much and yet not enough.

Michael couldn’t stop himself from wondering what those strings he saw really were. He wanted to know every bond, every name. But it made a sickness curl up ugly and raw in his stomach. He didn’t see the strings when they mattered most. If only he’d understand that it wasn’t a disability and that the strings that he didn’t see mattered just as much as those he saw.

Geoff couldn’t stop himself from wishing that touch and actions would be enough. It was odd how a writer and a reader forget the power of words, of symbols. He spent days tied up in novels about main characters that didn’t see themselves as important. He found himself understanding himself better through their experiences. It was a reflection, a mirror. And, oh, how his knuckles bled from the glass that was still stuck in his skin. And, no, was that Michael sewing up the wounds? How did their roles shift? How did he become a weight that sent Michael drowning? The utmost of failures. Take pity on the clown weeping in the corner. 

And Ryan. Ryan just couldn’t stop anything. 

And he certainly couldn’t stop whatever was happening to them.

“Ryan, it’s okay.”

Ray tried his hardest to make sure his voice didn’t shake. He was the youngest but he was their rock. Joel with his attacks, his visions. Ryan with his pain, with his supposed failures. Ray had to hold them both over a burning bridge.

Ryan didn’t care if it was a complete lie. He basked in what Ray gave him and he gave just as much as he took. Because this was it. This was life. It wasn’t something they could ever change.

The kiss that he gave Ray was searing.

Ray’s gasp was like water on the fire.

The smoke that rose between them was intoxicating and Ryan chased it. Grasping Ray’s hands, he squeezed them tight and fell into the waves.

This was okay. 

Because these bonds between them wouldn’t change either.


	17. Chapter 17

Michael’s migraine only lasted for a bit longer. He slept for a bit in between. Five hours overall. It wasn’t what he should’ve gotten but it was all he could pull out of the weariness of his body.

He woke in Ray’s arms. Too warm. Slipping out of his hold, he winced as his brain seemed to slam back into place. Ray had taken over and kept him tethered. Without that concrete pillar keeping him up, he was left staggering and trying to pick up the pieces, trying to pick up the threads. 

Ryan intercepted him in the hallway with a glass of water and an Advil. Michael didn’t like the memory but he sucked it down anyway. It was rough and scratchy going down but it was nothing compared to the shriveled state of his heart.

He wasn’t a keeper.

He wasn’t a very good communicator.

But he should have known that Geoff had his own demons and that Geoff never knew his. 

He wondered, then, if their demons complimented each other.

He wondered, too, if the string he saw connecting them was only meant to be of friendship. 

***

The living room was a war zone. 

Joel, Ryan and Ray lingered in Ray’s bedroom, ready to jump into defense mode if things got ugly but Ray was confident in what he felt and what he felt was a storm with a rainbow at the end. 

***

“Geoff?”

It took a few tries for Michael to really register that it was indeed Geoff lying on the floor, face down in his own drool and tears. 

The older male didn’t say anything as Michael sat on the floor next to him. But the silence soon became overwhelming. Geoff had to be the one to start the next chapter. 

“I’m a fucking asshole.” A shaky breath. “I destroyed you.”

Michael laughed, then, something all wrong and distorted. It took Geoff just a second to realize that he was crying, that they both were.

“Geoff, I had a migraine. I get them sometimes. But it was my fault you didn’t know.”

Geoff’s hands curled into fists. Michael watched the black ink ooze and pulse with every shake of his muscles. Michael always loved how they looked contrasted against the paleness of his skin. He missed their touch, how easy they grounded him. 

He wished that he hadn’t lashed out at Geoff, that he had latched on to that tattered band shirt of his from his college days and pulled him down. But he guessed that he was afraid that Geoff would say ’no’. 

Michael was all high and mighty. He didn’t like to be wrong. He didn’t like to be seen as weak or vulnerable. But Geoff was two seconds away from seeing him like that. Maybe he was frightened for what Geoff would see. Maybe he was scared that Geoff would see a monster and not his lover.

“No, it was my fault I didn’t ask. Goddamn it, Michael, I’m your keeper! I’m supposed to…supposed to know.”

But Geoff wasn’t a prophet. He didn’t see visions. All he had was his senses, heightened and calling out to him. But he was too late. He was too busy wallowing in his own pity that he didn’t think that the burning in his heart wasn’t because of a poorly timed memory but because Michael needed him. How could he help his boy when he was dying himself?

Michael tried not to feel all warm and fuzzy when Geoff said ‘your keeper’. But he couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on his face. Yes, Geoff was his. That string was there. He could see it floating in front of him. He saw a future and as cheesy as it was, he saw the sea and white picket fences. It bloomed with warmth and surged him up with electricity. It left him floating. This was just a stop on the ground before they could make it up there.

“Geoff, you’re not a prophet. It’s okay that you don’t know everything.”

That was the hardest pill for Geoff to swallow. Rising up on his elbows, Geoff managed to sit up enough to where he could grab Michael by the arm and pull him in. His hold was gentle just in case the younger male refused but Michael fell into him easily like he was an anchor. 

Geoff wrapped his arms tight around him, keeping one hand on the back of his neck and the other caught up in his curls. Michael sighed, something drawn out and heavy, as he found that perfect spot between Geoff’s neck and shoulder. He shut his eyes then, letting the warmth from Geoff’s slender and long fingers dig in and mellow out the wounds in his heart. 

“You were screaming and I thought…I saw my mom there. I heard her screaming with you. I couldn’t…”

But Geoff didn’t need to continue with the story. 

Because when Michael first saw the thread, it was weak. 

But now, it was full and bright with pops and sizzles of color. 

They were slowly mending their wounds, together.

“She’s fine, Geoff. You can’t stop fate, you know?” Michael wasn’t good at words but for Geoff, he’d try.

“I know. I hate not being able to control anything.” Geoff’s words were so hollow that Michael felt like he was slipping into the cracks. It was a bitter, dark world that Michael had fallen into. Was it wrong for him to wish that he’d be the one to give it life, to give it color? 

“I know. I do too.” 

It was a quiet confession. Geoff loved the brutal honesty of the boy. He hugged Michael tighter to his chest, rocking him back and forth. 

He didn’t care if it was too soon because his heart was blossoming. It was vibrating. And the thorns were gone. The storm had passed. There was a rainbow at the end. 

“I love you, Michael.”

I’ll tell you everything I can from now on.

“I love you too, you fucking asshole.”

_And I’ll re-read it twenty times over to get every hidden meaning. I’ll never put it down._   



	18. Chapter 18

It was strange to witness firsthand how much Ryan had grown. Ray had talked it over with Joel one night while Ryan slept on the couch to try and get a few more hours of sleep in. They were huddled in the arm chair. Ray’s fingers held over Joel’s and he refused to let go as he smiled proudly at their other lover sleeping, for once, peacefully. 

Joel had revealed how Ryan was when he first met him and how Ray had seen the same kind of damage but a little more mellowed out.

“He’s changed so much.” 

Joel kissed his hair, his smile just as wide and huge as his heart had come to be.

“Yeah, let’s hope we all keep moving forward.”


	19. Chapter 19

Ryan and Ray were sitting together, curled up in each other as they whispered lowly about tales from childhood to now. They had paused in their stories, not sure where to turn until Ryan grasped the younger male’s hand.

“I’ve always wanted to move to the sea.” He took a moment to breathe, to catch what he had been feeling for so many years and to throw it out there in the open, waiting for someone with an open hand to catch it and relieve him of its weight. “Austin’s great. And there are so many good places. Beautiful places. But the sea. And the cyprus trees. And the granite fireplaces and stone buildings. That’s where I wanna be.”

And Ray knew that it was true. He could see it in the deep, swirling blue of Ryan’s eyes, could etch out every single detail in the way that they wandered for something like that, never quite sticking around on the buildings here. They knew that they haven’t seen the sea yet so there was no reason to be stuck here. It was a soul thing. Ray felt it to, felt his own heart throb for somewhere else, somewhere different from here. He felt like a wanderer but he wouldn’t quite mind stopping at a resting place such as the sea. 

“That sounds wonderful, Ryan.”

It was all Ray could say.

He was bathed in awe, in the warm aura that oozed from Ryan. It was like sand slipping through his fingers. Ray felt that he had to bend down to count every grain, to immerse himself in it all before it eased away.

Ryan didn’t need to ask if Ray would come with. He didn’t need to even ask Joel. It was a silent agreement between them both. They weren’t exactly nature types or outdoorsy types but the sea sounded far too alluring to pass up.

It was a chance for peace, for serenity. Together.

“I’m gonna have to convince Michael and Geoff to give it a spin,” Ryan added. Ray laughed, then, something soft in its tone but loud in its intentions. Ryan’s smile came so easy as he kissed the boy’s temple, loving every one of these seemingly simple but treasured moments. 

“That sounds perfect.”

It was a sealed deal and, for once, Ray believed that he had an inkling of what it felt like to be a prophet.


	20. Chapter 20

“What are you afraid of?”

It felt like they were in support group but really they had all just spent time together as a group watching paranormal shows. Geoff had been skittish the whole time and had run out once or twice to ‘get more drinks’. Michael easily distracted him with kisses and a well placed roll of his hips. Kid knew how to tease and Geoff would never admit to how much he secretly enjoyed it.

Ryan, Joel and Ray remained on the couch, eyes glued on the screen the whole time. Half because they liked it but more so because watching Michael and Geoff was on a whole other scale of creepy. 

The question had come from Ryan. Joel nodded beside him, liking the question before he tapped on Ray’s temple. Ray glowered at him before moving in closer to Ryan.

“I’m afraid of my own brain.”

“That’s a lame thing only prophets say. Get human with me. Come on.” The question took a sudden turn as Ryan was asking it for a reason now, not just out of curiosity. Ray rose an eyebrow at him, catching his gaze and frowning when it was cloudy and couldn’t quite meet his eyes for long.

“I’ll get human with you later,” Joel grumbled. He sunk into his oversized hoodie, grabbing his beer from the side table and sipping at it.

“That’s gotta hurt, Rye,” Ray commented teasingly. But when Ryan didn’t bite and smirk at him and raise his eyebrows and join in, he knew something was really wrong. He tried to grab for the older male’s hand but Ryan tucked them away before he could even think about it.

“I’m afraid of this world. It’s terrifying. Humans are terrifying.”

No one in the room was ready for blinding honesty or a trip down frightening lane.

Michael even removed his mouth from the junction between Geoff’s neck and shoulder, slick and red lips popping as he said, “Way to be a fucking downer, man.” Geoff pinched at the soft skin of his hip in warning.

“What Michael means is that you’re entirely right, Ryan. You would know more than Ray and I, though.” Geoff looked contemplative as he imagined what pure hell Ryan must go through on a daily basis. 

And it was true.

Ryan was more so cursed than blessed with his rare ability. He still kept photos in journals, still kept that away from Joel and Ray. They knew his ability. They didn’t need to see the consequences of it.

“Yeah.”

It was a mumble and that was the end of the conversation. The volume turned up on the television screen. The show played again. Michael went back to sucking marks in Geoff’s skin, a tattoo of his own. Joel continued sipping his drink, eyes now glued to the television.

But what was louder than anything else and to only Ray it seemed was the turmoil written in the lines and creases of Ryan’s face.

Slowly and quietly, he kept his eyes on the screen but reached for Ryan’s left hand. 

Ryan let him.

And what he felt pour through made him want to cry.

“Ryan-.”

Ryan stood then, ripping himself away from everyone, cutting ties. He was doing so good. He had learned to be honest in his choices. He had learned that this was who he was. There was no going back. He learned how to move forward.

But that didn’t stop himself from wanting to be the hero, the savior. 

All of those photos. All those helpless souls. He was one of the very few, possibly the only one, that knew about their fates far before they did.

And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

What will he do when Joel and Ray’s death show up in his visions? Will he take their photos, put them in the journal, mark the day of their death and wait? He couldn’t turn the tide. He couldn’t change fate. He couldn’t maximize a life. There were infinite possibilities but finite time. 

Ryan wished that he’d die.

That he could put his photo down and watch it turn black and white with dust.

The world was terrifying. Human minds were worse. 

And Ryan knew just how far they could go. And what could he do? Nothing. He was stuck here, incapable of stopping the horrors, incapable of changing lives, incapable of changing time, incapable of changing fate.

He was a horror in of itself.

He was the definition of a failure.

And just like always, he’ll look at Joel and Ray and realize how much he’s failed them. He’ll turn away and put their photos down, paste it in their spots, write down their names in the best cursive he can. He’ll kiss their memories goodbye and never look at them twice.

He knew who was gonna murder them already.

He didn’t need a vision for that.

All he could do was wait for his mind to warp, to shutter and change, to suck up all those horrors and become a monster like them. 

It wouldn’t be long, he thought.

They’ll never reach shore again.


	21. Chapter 21

This was so wrong for Ray to do. It was invading Ryan’s private life but Ray was getting far too concerned. There was an inkling of worry burying deep back in his brain but the roots had managed to take over every thought he had. 

Ryan was with Joel at a conference with the local college about computer tech stuff as well as acting and writing. A strange but perfect combination. They were speaking with students who were a bit on the confused side on what to do with their lives. Ray knew that if anyone could offer wisdom, it’d be his boys. But that blip of worry was still there, blinking red. And Ray couldn’t help but answer to its call.

So, here he was in Ryan’s apartment. 

He’d only been over a few times. But for once, the place felt frigid. Maybe Ryan was what made it warm. Maybe it was the memories that felt like a fire in his heart. Or maybe it was just simply cold. 

Ray didn’t mind, though, as he stole one of Ryan’s hoodies hanging in his closet. Slipping it on, he grunted when the bunched up cloth at the end of the sleeve refused to give and let his hand through. Frowning, he wiggled his arm around a bit. He didn’t expect the crash that came next, though.

Jumping, Ray whipped around only to find what appeared to be a journal laying on the floor. Peering at the shelves above the clothes rack, he assumed it fell from there. 

Picking up the journal, he froze when its weight was so cold that it felt like ghosts had entered the room and shot straight through his fingers. He remembered the tidbit from that show they had watched all those days ago. He’d have to ask if Ryan had non-human guests around but before that thought could turn into a plan, Ray opened the journal and nearly threw it in his haste to wash his mind from what he saw.

Photos of people. Dates of death. All written in Ryan’s odd half slant, half cursive handwriting like he couldn’t decide what was proper for that person so he went with both.

“What the fuck?” Ray breathed in deep, collecting his rapid thoughts before flipping the pages. 

He only knew the big picture when it came to Ryan’s ability. He didn’t think it meant this. 

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Ray tried to put together what Ryan saw on a daily basis. Prophet was such a broad term. Joel just saw events that could happen any time in the future, usually those that centered around the people in his life. Michael saw the strings connecting one person to the next. It made him pissed most of the time when love visions started popping up behind his eyeballs. It always made his vision go red. But Ryan. What did Ryan see?

Ray pressed a fingertip to a girl’s name, sliding his finger along every curve. But he wasn’t a prophet that was capable of touching a name and getting their life story. That was another rare ability that Joel always ranted about. He wondered if Joel knew Ryan’s rare ability. But he didn’t think so. There’d be no way he could hold that back from Ray.

Sighing, he squeezed his eyes shut and thought over what the information contained. The person’s name, photograph and date of death. When it clicked, Ray felt like he was holding Ryan’s hand again on the couch. He wanted to cry.

Closing the journal, he let it rest, frigid and heavy, on his lap. 

Covering his eyes, he prayed that, if anything, Ryan hadn’t seen Joel’s death, that he hadn’t seen his.


	22. Chapter 22

When Joel and Ryan got back from the conference, Ray was there. He was standing with his hands out, holding a crappily wrapped package with a blue bow on top. Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed as he reached for his lover, curling a hand around his neck and kissing him softly, tenderly. Ray was shaking under his grip. And Ryan. Ryan feared the worse.

Joel wrapped his arms around Ray, shielding him in as Ryan took the package and unwrapped it. What laid beneath the paper was the answer to everything, it seemed.

Ryan knew that Ray would find out eventually, that Joel would too. There was no hiding it. But he didn’t want it to be now. They were so close to just packing up and leaving for the sea. They were so close to that final end.

“Thank you, Ray. I would’ve hated to buy another one.”

Even though Ray couldn’t buy him journals all the time. He’d have to own a store of journals. He’d have to give him millions.

“When?” The words were a struggle. 

“When?” Ryan echoed them back but they came out even harder. Sliding his hand along the journal’s leather spine, he shuddered. 

Joel reached for him but Ryan stepped back, away from them. Cutting ties. Moving on.

“It’s best if I’m not here anymore. The person who does this…it’s all connected. He wants me. So, I’m gonna give him what he wants.” His eyes then caught Joel’s and held on to Ray’s. 

“I’m not gonna put either of you in his path.”

***

That night, Joel sewed together the piles upon piles of patches that he had ripped out. Ray watched him as planes flew above them, roaring and soaring. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, he just hoped that Ryan made it to the sea.

His final resting spot.

_“I love you, Ryan.”_

It was all Ray could say.

And, somehow, beneath all of the tears, they knew the ending was always gonna be this. 

Because how else does one end a tragedy?

***

Ray felt the lines etch into his chest.

An ‘x’.

And when he turned to his lovers, all he could see was the same lines.

He just hoped that whoever the man was who stole this happiness from them found some worthwhile treasure underneath. 

And that, in their next life, it wouldn’t be a tragedy.


	23. Chapter 23

Michael felt the strings trembling. 

He felt them shredding like patches of a blanket. 

Geoff grabbed on to him, tried to scream over the fire in Michel’s brain but Michael was screaming himself and it was the worst, most raw sound that Geoff had ever heard.

Michael had visions of love, of strings connecting people to each other.

He saw the strings connecting the three men together before they ever stumbled on each other.

And he saw that same string snap and fray.

The last thing he saw was bursting rays of gray and black, rolling in like the tide, staking its claim and leaving them to drown.


	24. Chapter 24

Ryan reminded Joel of sky blue construction paper, the kind that his mother liked and always made sure to reserve solely for him. 

It was obvious in the color of his eyes but it took Joel weeks to parse through all the other details. 

Ryan was cut, molded by impatient hands as well as perfectionists. Joel was seemingly both. It depended on the day. Some were bad, others good. Even as a kid, he struggled with the power of his mind. 

Most prophets showed signs since early age but weren’t educated enough to get it. Joel got it. His mother was a keeper. His father was a prophet. And she always reminded him that no matter how much his mind slipped, no matter how much it burned, that he couldn’t ever give into it. His father did. And he wasn’t around much anymore. 

Ryan reminded him of what he felt on the good days and the bad. When he couldn’t move the scissors just right, he’d cut the paper into sporadic patterns and shapes. None of them resembled anything in the real world. Sometimes they took the form of objects that he had seen illuminated in his visions. Other times they took on the form of people’s faces that he didn’t quite know were gonna be in his life yet. 

Ryan was just like that.

A mesh up of patterns and shapes. He was kind, so sweet that it left Joel’s teeth rotting and heart caught asunder. But sometimes he saw faces superimposed over Ryan’s. He saw his sister in his eyes and he wondered what he looked like to her before she died. He wondered how many times he tried to save her before, like Joel realized too, that he couldn’t fix it.

Sometimes, he saw objects.

Most importantly, he saw cyprus trees and stone walls, granite fireplaces and turbulent seas. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if Ryan ran away from him, from Ray, from them and found the sea as his home and never looked back. 

Ryan wasn’t a bad person like that. Hell, Joel had run, like a stupid coward, so many times. He had found the bookstore, thankfully. It was his final place. He could feel it. But he saw how antsy Ryan was. He could almost see it trail up his skin and thrum like a war drum under the tracks. 

He couldn’t catch Ryan. He couldn’t make someone born of the sky like that stay. No, he’d go where he was made to be. To the sea. To the forests. To the skies above. 

Spirits were said to traverse these plains through these things. They were born of the Earth and it was so easy for their voices, for their stories to inject themselves in the grains of granite, in the swirls of bark, in the call of the sea, in the whisper of the leaves. 

He could see Ryan spending days, building a home of stone by the sea. 

And the sad thing was was that Joel didn’t see himself there, didn’t see Ray there.

He wondered if they’d even visit a mad man on his final journey.

Bonds were too strange for Joel to define. There were details he’d never understand. He knew the bonds were strong and no matter how much Ryan ran, he’d still be with them. He’d still see visions of him. Ray will still feel him like a heart beat under his skin.

And he knew that Ryan would feel them too.

And they’ll both look toward the sky and know that the sun that they see and the moonbeams that bathe them in their light are a reminder that Ryan’s out there too, seeing the same things. 

He’ll always love Ryan. 

And maybe someday Joel will find himself some more sky blue construction paper and cut shapes and patterns of all the objects and the faces he’s seen.

And maybe someday he’ll send them to Ryan and he’ll put them in his journal alongside the photos and smile for once.

And maybe someday he’ll be there, standing beside him, explaining them despite the fact that Ryan would never need one.

And maybe someday they’ll both return to the same sea, the same stone house, the same forest as animals.

And maybe someday they’ll both see each other again in their next life.


	25. Chapter 25

The world was green.

Ray was envious of the normal people. They got to have lives that weren’t tormented by rare abilities.

Ryan once told him, though, that prophets and keepers were a special kind. They reincarnated three times and in between they were animals, gathering up energy for the next life. 

Ray always wondered what Ryan would be, if he would find the older male in the forest next to the sea, running along, happy, finally, and free.

He wondered what his date was, what his ending would be. He wondered what animal he’d be, if he’d find Joel and Ryan there waiting for him. 

He wondered if he’d find them, here, at the sea.

Michael reached for his hand. Geoff slid an arm across his shoulders.

“Think this is what they would’ve wanted?”

Ray could only nod as he smoothed his free hand over the silver canister. Unscrewing the top, he whispered his love one last time before emptying the ashes, swirled together, into the sea.

The tide came, then, lapping at their feet and taking the ash with them.

And Ray returned to the house on the hill overlooking the sea. He watched the waves curl and unfurl, heard his final words to them echo back.

_“We'll be here forever. And we'll never say goodbye.”_


End file.
